by Sayed Kashua
The woman was healthy, and the firstborn son, whom I met at the Shiva, said her passing had been a complete surprise, that she simply had not woken up and that her daughter had found her in bed with a smile on her lips and an unmoving heart.
The doctors, who found no reason to conduct an autopsy, said it had been a heart attack, and I was afraid that it had happened because of me, because at the very moment of her death, during precisely that same hour of the morning, I had erased the two tapes, recording over the spools on which her life story had been held.
2
“He didn’t mean it. Don’t take it too hard. He’s your older brother, and he’ll always be your older brother, and the things he said were not said from the heart, believe me. They were spoken in anger. You don’t know what we went through because of that small patch of land that we still have. You don’t know what he had to go through because of it and still does. And not just him, all of us. You think your father got sick for no reason? They broke his heart, and now all of the weight is on your brothers’ shoulders, especially his. And you don’t know. You left and detached yourself from the troubles. And maybe it’s best that way, maybe it’s for the best that you were far away.
The people closest to you, or the people you thought were close, they’re the ones who swoop down on you when you’re weak, who want to tear at your flesh while you’re still alive. After all, there was barely space to build houses for your brothers, and when I think about the grandchildren … I’d rather not think about it. Where will they go? Where will they build houses and where will they live? Even the little that remains they want to take. The people that I could once turn to in my hour of need have now become the source of trouble, and of course nothing is officially documented, nothing is written down, and nothing can be. What were once agreements and signatures are no longer valid, and in order to reach a resolution every single one of the relatives, from 1948 up until now, has to sign off on it, and half of them are no longer on speaking terms. Brothers have become enemies, quarreling over every square foot of earth, trampling the weak. And what sort of strength do we have? And who even imagined we’d ever find ourselves in this situation, where the people with whom you once broke bread now yearn for your death and are willing to do whatever it takes in order to dispossess you from the little that you own.
And everyone is right, everyone is right, and nothing will convince them that they’re mistaken. They’re all certain that they’ve been terribly wronged, and no letters, no agreements, no land distribution claims signed by the older generation are going to convince them otherwise. And even the elders who, whether by pen or thumbprint, signed official documents before a lawyer, deny their signatures and fan the flames of anger among the younger generations. They have nowhere to build. Where could they build? And where will their kids go? So in their rage they prey on the weak, the helpless. And don’t think they haven’t taken. They’ve taken, they’ve taken already. And we thought that it was over and done and they signed new paperwork and shook hands and smiled and kissed your father and your brothers and said thank you and how wonderful it is that we can go back to being a family. But a few years down the road another family member turned up. And once he understood that we had succumbed one time, he thought maybe we’d do so again, until there’s just nowhere for you to go. And when you have your back pressed up against the wall, you have no choice but to find the strength to fight.
You think your father fell ill for no reason? And you think your brother spoke that way for no reason? He should not have spoken to you the way he did. He would like to have you back among us more than anything else, but it was rage that spoke, the anger of feeling that he had been abandoned, that he had to endure all alone. Do you know that they opened fire on his house a few times while he and his wife were asleep, while his kids were asleep inside? But he didn’t give in because where will his children go? For all that’s left is barely enough for them to build houses on top of one another. Did you know that his wife left the house? Rightfully, out of fear, she took the kids and slept at her parents’ house for three weeks. Who could blame her? And who could have imagined that your brothers, who work hard in order to raise their kids and get them the best possible education, would find themselves threatened in their own homes? Cursed is the soil, but what can be done? There’s nowhere else to go. There’s no choice.
In the name of God, don’t be angry with him, and don’t take it to heart. The only hope we have is the chance of seeing you reunited. I’m sorry that I’m crying. Seeing the two of you fight is devastating to me, the thought that even you, even you two would fight, that is something that never once crossed my mind. You’ll see. He’ll come back here and ask for forgiveness. I talked to him and he’s already sorry about what he said and sad about having said those things; he didn’t mean them. He only wants for you to be by his side, for him not to feel alone while waging this cursed war that was forced upon us and upon him.
And do you think that your father, once he heard that they’re threatening his children and endangering the lives of his grandchildren, didn’t want to give them everything they were asking for? He nearly went out of his mind. And what do you think? That what happened to him happened for no reason? And now they show up at the hospital as if their hands are clean, as if they were not the ones behind it all. Who could do such a thing but them? Only them, for it is all so clear. In the name of God, your brother does not have a dispute with anyone in this world. He goes from home to work and from work to the family and the kids. That’s it. And then disaster occurs, a terrible disaster, and there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to go. So it was only frustration coming from your brother’s throat, and instead of speaking a word of longing he unwittingly spit out a stream of anger over the many years of absence.
He knows you won’t come back, which is not to say that heaven forbid that’s my preference. For you must know that it is my hope to see you among us again and to be granted the privilege of having your children grow up with their cousins in their natural environment. Though maybe the distance and the years have already made you used to a different life, and you might not want to make yourselves a home in Tira. Am I right? I wish I was wrong, but I am a mother and a mother is never wrong about her intuitions. Your brother knows deep down that you didn’t come to claim land or an inheritance. He knows that very well. And I’m not saying that it isn’t your right. Of course it is, even if there is only a little bit left it is still your right, even though you didn’t fight and didn’t stand beside your brothers to defend what remains. It does not detract from your lawful right. But your brother knows that you will ask for nothing, and I promised him that I know you well enough to know that it does not befit you to ask for your share, small though it may be. Who would ever believe that I would have to say things of this nature? Who would ever believe that I would be forced to mediate between children who were raised to always stand by each other’s side? And he did stand by your side, in the face of the rumors and the slander, the vicious lies that were spread about you, and he held his ground courageously, as did your father. They sang your praises and assailed your accusers; even though it besmirched their honor, they never abated. It followed them everywhere. You don’t know what they went through, as did I, yes, as did I. But I reckon that you can imagine, because you were always a smart kid, and the customs of this place are not foreign to you even if you’ve disregarded them.
He did not mean a word that he said. He is your older brother and he would give up his entire world for you and he will be coming this evening. He promised he will come, and you must promise me in the name of God that you will kiss his head, ask for his forgiveness, make clear that you are seeking nothing. And may God keep you, my son.”
3
My father ordered a TV to the room. He can’t live without the news. At home, too, the radio is constantly tuned in to a twenty-four-hour news station and is left on all night by the bed. My mother has gotten used to its drone.
In the hosp
ital, for the price of thirty-five shekels per night, a TV rental service technician installed an old TV on an adjustable metal wall mount. “After the first week,” the tech said, “the price goes down to twenty-five.”
“Don’t worry,” Dad said. “I won’t hang on for the discount.”
My father donned earphones—“for a single payment of ten shekels”—and watched the news:
Israel Police first sergeant Erez Levi was killed today in a car-ramming attack in the village of Umm el-Hiran. The attack came in the midst of an operation to remove an illegal construction from a Bedouin village. He is survived by his wife and two children.
Minister of Public Security Gilad Erdan accuses the Arab MKs who took part in the protest rally: the policeman’s blood is on your hands. The brother of the driver contends that after being shot the alleged assailant lost control of the vehicle.
The responsible parties will have to rule on this matter, not the officers in the field but the high-ranking officers that organized the operation.
In the military cemetery in Yavne First Sergeant Erez Levi, age thirty-four, is laid to rest after being killed by a car ramming while clearing illegal Bedouin buildings in Umm el-Hiran. The footage from a police helicopter shows the car driven by the local resident, Musa Abu el-Hiran. Excuse me, Yaaqub Abu el-Hiran, and here he is seen accelerating as the police officers fire in his direction. The Israel Police has determined today that it was a car-ramming attack, while the family contends that the collision occurred on account of a loss of control of the car during the shooting, and all this takes place on the heels of the decision to remove the residents from their homes in the unrecognized village.
The Members of Knesset from the Joint List of Arab parties took part in the protest rallies. Joint List chairman MK Ayman Odeh was wounded in the head. Correspondent Nir Dvori, you’re there, in the field: all of this happened in the early morning, and since then I presume things have quieted down considerably?
That’s right, Oren, and it should be noted that all is calm here right now, once the destruction of all fifteen buildings that the police intended to destroy has been completed, despite this grave incident and the murder of the police officer. Those developments delayed the time schedule of the police, but the mission was completed in the end.
I’d like to shift the camera, here, have a look, at what may be the first case of retaliation after the incident. Across the way from this small village, Umm el-Hiran, a Jewish village called Hiran is being built, the early infrastructure already visible on the ground. What you see over there is an equipment hangar for roadwork tools being used in the construction. And someone has already decided to torch that spot. It’s unclear if that will be the last action taken here, as there’s plenty of rage, a great deal of frustration, and we’ve seen it erupt a bit over the past several hours. But it must be said that even in the midst of this incident, we saw many young Bedouin residents of the area trying to calm things down, restrain, and they were the ones who prevented rocks from being thrown at the police. And another word, because this may be important as we move forward, there are preparations for the possibility of additional eruptions of rage and frustration in the near future. Many people are currently engaged in trying to lower the height of the flames, including the president of the country, who is speaking with Bedouin leaders and Arab mayors in order to soothe and to moderate, because they understand that this was an unusual incident, most grave, that could alter the shape of this landscape.
Nir, let’s hear the reactions from Member of Knesset Ayman Odeh and from the police’s deputy commander of the southern sector. Here they are:
I’m telling you that the bloodshed could have been avoided. Prime Minister Netanyahu, who has already marked the Arab population as enemy number one, made the brutal decision to ruin an entire village, to kick and pound children, women, and men.
There’s no way to explain a situation like this by saying that he didn’t see them. There were dozens of police officers moving in two rows in a very noticeable way. There is just no way that he did not see them, and whoever races out toward them at that sort of speed, on those road conditions, it is absolutely clear, has injurious intent, and he did make contact, and he killed police personnel deployed in the line of duty.
Nir, would you like to add another word?
Yes, we must add that the Bedouin Authority in the Negev conducted intense negotiations in order to try and move this unrecognized and illegal village to the nearby Bedouin town of Hura. Some of the families did move and some did not, stating that an adequate arrangement was not found for them. That is what we’ve been told by the residents here. And the police say that there is a signed order from the Supreme Court, a decision that cannot be changed, and that is why the decree stood and that is why they were sent to destroy the illegal houses here today.
Okay, thank you very much for now. Shalom to Member of Knesset Ahmad Tibi.
Shalom, Oren.
You are currently at Soroka Hospital in Beersheva, visiting Member of Knesset Isma Sa’adi.
Osama. Osama Sa’adi.
Osama Sa’adi, who was injured. Look, Minister Erdan says that Ayman Odeh and the rest of the MKs from the Joint List arrived in order to fan the flames, that his blood is also on your hands, and that you are a disgrace to the state of Israel. Here on the screen we have what he posted on Facebook today, what do you have to say to that?
4
The nurse helps me transfer Dad into a wheelchair. His legs can’t support him, but his arms have retained some of their strength. “It’s humiliating,” he tells the nurse when he asks for a wheelchair in order to go the bathroom. The catheter is still connected to his body, and the nurse hangs it from the wheelchair and shows me how to transport him.
“Take me outside, my son,” my father ordered. “I’m suffocating in here.”
“But it’s not allowed,” I said. “They specifically said that you are not allowed out.”
I pushed the wheelchair out of the dark room. The Jewish patient was awake, staring at the ceiling. The Russian nurse on the night shift nodded at me when I looked to her for approval.
“You’ll be cold,” I told my father, and he did not respond.
“Maybe I should take a sheet?” I asked him, and he said no, he’d actually welcome a bit of cold.
“But they specifically said that we have to be careful that you not catch any sort of infectious diseases, Dad. They asked that relatives with a cold not come and visit, because this is the season and—
“Right, and that’s why they put me in the infectious diseases department. I need to get out.”
The elevator arrived at our floor and the doors pinged open. There was no one in the waiting area.
“What time is it anyway?”
“Midnight,” I told my father as I pushed him into the elevator.
On the way out, a young man sat alone on a bench outside the closed café and peered into his cell phone. He raised his head as we walked past, but his blank expression said nothing.
“It’s cold, Dad,” I said as the automatic glass door opened.
“Actually, it’s nice,” he said, and I imagined him smiling as he used to do when Mom would complain about the cold and he would insist on pushing the TV into the yard to watch the soccer matches in the fresh air. “We’ll make it feel like the stadium here,” he’d say. “Do you have any idea how cold it is in Manchester?”
